Sunday, March 31, 2013

Summary (taken from Goodreads):In this intensely
romantic, modern recounting of the greatest love story ever told, Romeo’s
original intended—Juliet’s cousin Rosaline—tells her side of the tale.What’s in a name, Shakespeare?
I’ll tell you: Everything.

Rosaline knows that she and Rob are destined to
be together. Rose has been waiting for years for Rob to kiss her—and when he
finally does, it’s perfect. But then Juliet moves back to town. Juliet, who
used to be Rose’s best friend. Juliet, who now inexplicably hates her. Juliet,
who is gorgeous, vindictive, and a little bit crazy...and who has set her
sights on Rob. He doesn’t even stand a chance.Rose is devastated over losing Rob to Juliet.
This is not how the story was supposed to go. And when rumors start swirling
about Juliet’s instability, her neediness, and her threats of suicide, Rose
starts to fear not only for Rob’s heart, but also for his life. Because
Shakespeare may have gotten the story wrong, but we all still know how it ends…

Sometimes a book calls out to you, be it for
all the right or wrong reasons. When it comes to re-imaginings of age-old tales
and classics of the literary pantheon, one must tread lightly, particularly
when entering the realm of William Shakespeare. It’s important to remember the
cultural and historical context of his work when applying it to a modern day
setting. It’s possible to remain faithful to the source material while still
adapting it to fit today’s moral & societal changes. A good example of this
is the movie “10 Things I Hate About You”, a high school retelling of the very
archaic “The Taming of the Shrew”. Said play is pretty misogynist, emphasising
the important of subduing a woman’s fiery spirit in favour of making her an
obedient wife. In “10 Things I Hate About You”, the “shrewish” heroine does not
change for a man, nor is she forced into it. Their romantic resolution is
witty, equally matched and doesn’t rely on either of them completely changing
their personalities. I highly recommend the film if you haven’t seen it.
However, today’s review is about a less successful Shakespeare modern day
retelling. “When You Were Mine” actually manages to be just as, if not more
sexist than the play it’s taken from, the ever popular “Romeo and Juliet”.

I have a big revelation for you all, dear
readers. It may shock you, it may not (I hope not), but I’m sick of the world
still living by this false assumption in 2013 and think it’s time to set the
record straight for the good of us all.

There is no such thing as a slut.

Seriously. They don’t exist.

If someone calls you a slut, then ask them to
define it. Usually they can’t, or the definition changes with every person you
ask.

That’s because there’s no such thing as a slut.

The term “slut”, and variations on that term,
are so casually tossed around towards women, basically exist to shame women for
being vaguely sexual, although they’re just as commonly used as insults to women
for completely unrelated reasons (wearing a low-cut top is tantamount to being
the whore of Babylon according to some). Women are often depicted as being manipulative,
stupid, malicious or just plain evil solely based on their sexuality – they’re
evil because they’re a slut, and they’re a slut because they’re evil. Poor
innocent men are snatched from their true loves by those evil sluts, who don’t
have real human emotions like the nice girls, and leave men completely
merciless to their slutty wiles. These women all look a certain way – usually blonde,
wearing lots of make-up and revealing clothing, often compared to porn stars or
blow-up dolls, frequently cheerleaders. Many jokes will be made about sexually
transmitted diseases towards these sluts, although male “players” are clean on
this front. More often than not, bad things happen to these women, but don’t
worry, because they deserve it.

Remember, these women don’t exist.

I stress this because after reading “When You
Were Mine”, I seriously began to believe that the author, a woman herself,
hates other women, or had a cousin who seriously messed with her at some point
during her life. In this modern version of the oft-imitated tale of star-crossed
lovers, Rosaline is beginning a relationship with Rob Caplet (see what they did
there?) just as her cousin Juliet returns to the scene and immediately snatches
him away. Rob goes from being besotted with Rosaline to completely obsessing
over Juliet, that slut. Juliet is, of course, a heavy make-up wearing spoiled
brat with bleach blonde hair who snatches away innocent men and turns them into
little lapdogs. But never fear, good readers, because underneath that harsh and
fake exterior is a broken little girl who is just jealous of her plain but
intelligent cousin, and will meet a tragic end that will be entirely blamed on
her.

Do you see where this book goes wrong?

In “Romeo and Juliet”, Rosaline is never on
stage, and serves more as a plot point than anything else. She is a means for
Romeo to attend the Capulet family’s party and meet Juliet, his true love. A
lot of great literary analysis has been written on her and I implore you to
check some out because you won’t find any of that here. In the play, where
Rosaline serves as a contrast and plot point, here she is the angel to Juliet’s
whore. The naïve teenage girl consumed by first love in the face of petty
familiar conflict has been turned into a slut, and later on a dead slut.

This is not okay.

There is literally nothing else to Juliet’s
character except her evil sluttiness and the consequences of it. In this book,
being a slut is literally described as being a defining quality!

"Charlie
says there's a difference between being a slut and being slutty. She thinks
Olivia was slutty for hooking up with the Belgian, but she would never call her
a slut. Her theory is that the distinction is between how you act and who you
are. Olivia's was an action, whereas Darcy's is a defining quality."

Charlie and Olivia are Rosaline’s friends. So
there you go – good friends can be slutty but they’re never sluts. That’s for
other women.

Juliet is entirely blamed for Rob’s actions,
which is both sexist and daft. The last time I checked, men were autonomous
creatures completely capable of doing as they pleased. Women can do that
sometimes as well. By putting all the blame on Juliet for Rob’s actions (as if
his penis just fell into her vagina), his responsibility is completely removed
from him. He’s not a victim; he knew exactly what he was doing! Of course, in
the end he tries to run back to the good and sweet Rosaline, but it all ends
badly (do I even need spoiler alerts for “Romeo & Juliet”?) because that is
the normal way of things. In 2013.

I actually have nothing else to say about this
book because I can’t remember a single thing about it outside of the weapons
grade level of slut-shaming. Taylor Swift looks like bell hooks in comparison
to “When You Were Mine”. I honestly can’t get over how much this book hates
women. It’s archaic and makes Shakespeare’s Elizabethan era play look
progressive in comparison. At least in “Romeo & Juliet” the pair were
supposed to be blind with infatuation and Juliet didn’t shove the poison down
Romeo’s mouth. It’s not as if the original material is untouchable, and it’s
not as if there isn’t great potential in giving some depth to Rosaline, but
absolutely no effort is put into that here because the author is so concerned
with demonising Juliet to the point of insanity. Take my advice and stick to
the source: It’s better written, makes some sense and doesn’t loathe women.

Friday, March 15, 2013

I like food. While I’m something of a fussy eater and can
only cook a limited number of dishes in a semi-competent manner, inside I am a
complete foodie who watches far too many cooking shows, browses cookbooks and
blogs for fun and dreams of living life Nigella style. I’m also a complete
sucker for food in film and literature. However, there’s been this strange
trend in YA, and more recently NA, in regards to food that’s unsettled me for
quite some time. Like all problematic things (joking, of course), it begins
with “Twilight” and is emphasised in its official fan-fiction “50 Shades of
Grey”. In one scene, Edward takes Bella out to dinner, even though she protests
and insists she isn’t hungry. In the fan-fiction, Edward/Christian has dietary
requirements written into his kinky contract with Bella/Ana, and seems to
constantly talk about whether or not she’s eating. I most recently saw this
trend appear in Abbi Glines’s “Fallen Too Far”, with the designated love
interest becoming pretty angry over the heroine’s refusal to accept his offer
of food from his fridge.

When these male characters insist, with varying degrees of
verbal force, that they know best on the heroine’s diet, it asserts an almost
parental dynamic between the pair. The man is simply being parental. He knows
better on this issue, and this is confirmed when the heroine finally gives in
and eats, only to realise that she was indeed hungry the whole time, despite
her protests. It’s a continuation of a wider them present in these books – that
the man is always right in his quest to “protect” his love, be it from
supernatural purposes or just from herself, and the heroine is a “good girl”
for doing as she’s told. Here’s an example of this, from our old favourite, “Twilight”:

“Drink”,
he ordered.

I sipped at my soda obediently,
and then drank more deeply, surprised by how thirsty I was. I realised I had
finished the whole thing when he pushed his glass toward me. (Trade paperback,
page 169).

I can understand the justification somewhat for this scene
given that it follows a scene where Bella is almost attacked by a gang of
would-be rapists, so she’d probably be flooded with adrenaline and in need of
some proper nourishment, but given the pattern of controlling behaviour from
Edward that continues throughout those four books, it’s tough to ignore the
wider implication.

It’s also worth noting that in the vast majority of
mainstream YA and NA romances, the heroine is described as thin (or curvy in
all the right places, a phrase that makes me want to pull out my eyelashes) and
attractive, regardless of her diet. A particularly extreme example of this can
be found in Aprilynne Pike’s “Wings” series, where the heroine consumes nothing
but tinned fruit and Diet Coke and nobody bats an eyelid. She is, of course,
described as gorgeous constantly, although if anyone in real life had this
diet, they’d probably be sent to a doctor with severe malnutrition (yes, I know
she’s a fairy and everything, but she lived 16 years as a human and nobody
thought “Hey, this is a bit odd, maybe we should look into this?” Come on. Lazy
writing). It doesn’t help that we seldom see any other body types on the covers
of YA novels. Often this is glossed over on the cover, as was the instance with
the US ARC of Rae Carson’s “The Girl of Fire and Thorns”, with a side order of white-washing.

So why is this a thing in romance? Personally, I think a lot
of it comes from a desire to be looked after. This is very much the case in New
Adult romances these days, where I continue to be surprised when the designated
controlling love interest allows the heroine to leave the house on her own. Having
her nutrition needs taken care of is part of the overarching theme of being looked
after by a man whose adoration dips frequently into obsession. It also removes
some of the guilt that many women feel over eating and enjoying their food. “Fat”
is a go-to insult to fling at any woman, regardless of her weight or BMI, so
creating a scenario where the adoring gorgeous Joe Six-Pack not only wants you
to eat food but makes it for you himself takes out some of the insecurities. Even
though these women are constantly described as beautiful, many of them remain
insecure about their looks. I understand that this is supposed to make her more
relatable to the reader but ultimately that also presents many other problems. Some
of us women are very happy with the way we look, thank you very much! We can
still relate to a character if she admits that she’s gorgeous.

Another version of this food angle that I hate involves the
man bragging about how much he loves a woman who eats “real” food like steaks
and burgers and not silly little salads. Strangely enough, salads are real food
and can be just as enjoyable as a burger (particularly some of Nigella’s
salads). It’s similar to the tired and aggravating mantra that “real women have
curves”. Newsflash: You can be a size 0 or a size 20 but you’ll still be a “real
woman”. Your gender identity is not dictated by your body type.

Finding body positive media is tough enough, although a lot
easier nowadays with the internet at our disposal, so finding heroines of all
shapes and sizes who differ from the default mode (skinny, white, always described
as pretty or variations of that word) can be hard. I don’t mind what a heroine
eats throughout her story as long as she’s made that choice herself. When a
male character enters the scene and begins to dictate how she should live her
life, be it through making her dietary choices or controlling who she sees or
talks to, it removes the woman’s autonomy over her own life. There’s something
very wrong with all of these things being considered romantic, as I have
discussed many times before (and will continue to do so if the New York Times
best-seller lists are anything to go by). Not only that, the lack of body
positivity in the genre is incredibly disappointing. For a genre that prides
itself on inclusivity and progressiveness, this is such an obvious area that’s
just being ignored.

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Publisher: 1992 by Farrar, Straus
and Giroux (BYR) (first published July 1st 1982)

Pages: 233 (paperback edition).

Summary (taken from Goodreads): This
groundbreaking book is the story of two teenage girls whose friendship blossoms
into love and who, despite pressures from family and school that threaten their
relationship, promise to be true to each other and their feelings. This book is
so truthful and honest, it has been banned from many school libraries and even
publicly burned in Kansas City.

Of the author and the book, the
Margaret A. Edwards Award committee said, “Nancy Garden has the distinction of
being the first author for young adults to create a lesbian love story with a
positive ending. Using a fluid, readable style, Garden opens a window through
which readers can find courage to be true to themselves.”

I am embarrassingly behind on
reading most of the books that often grace the banned/challenged list. One
that’s often caught my eye was Annie On My Mind, which continues to receive
vitriol for its portrayal of two young women who fall in love with each other.

Young Adult as a genre has come a
long way. Sure, there are the major setbacks of romanticizing abuse and
cringe-worthy "teenspeak", but while there's the obligatory uproar
over LGBT subjects, they are no longer the rarity. Books like Boy Meets Boy,
Empress of the World, Luna, and countless others are available to teens
everywhere in most libraries, bookstores, and of course online. It’s not as
quite as barren out there as it was when I was in high school, which was about
fifteen years ago. Yes, I’m old.

Annie On My Mind came out in the
early eighties, when being gay was still equated with AIDS and books that
portrayed homosexuals in a positive light were few and far between. It's quite
dated, as the dialogue and characterization in the first half of the book is
stilted and awkward. An example:

(pg. 12 in the paperback edition I
read)

"We're terribly sorry,
sir," Annie said, with a look of such innocence I didn't see how anyone
could possibly be angry at her. "The knights are so-so splendid! I've
never seen them before - I got carried away."

"Harrumph!" the guard
said, loosening his hold on my shoulder and saying again, "Old enough to
know better, both of you."

It's worth pressing on, however,
because truly shines once the story focuses on the relationship between Annie
and Liza. Annie has already faced her attraction to other girls, but the
affection that Liza feels for Annie is all new to her. Her subsequent
frustration with Annie and herself feels genuine, but the stilted dialogue
still carries through until their relationship becomes more serious. It’s then
that the book seems to truly focus on the subject matter, which is the love
story between these characters and the effect it has on their community.

Naturally they find opposition,
mostly when Liza’s private school discovers their relationship (as well as a
similar one). Liza, being the student council president, is quite literally
threatened when a couple of meddling school administrators decide to hold a
trial of sorts to determine if Liza will keep her position, stay in the school,
and have her “deviance” put on her permanent record, thus ruining her chances
at going to MIT.

Ultimately Liza comes to the
realization that her love for Annie is what was put on trial:

(pg. 199)

It's Annie and me they're all
sitting around here like cardboard people judging; it's Annie and me. And what
we did that they think is wrong, when you pare it all down, was fall in love.

It’s this
message that makes this book a winner for me. Dated references and cartoonish
depictions aside, Annie on My Mind is a love story for the ages. I tend to
dislike romance as a genre and I’m also a die-hard cynic, but the end had me
choked up.

This book is
very much archaic by today’s standards. Annie and Liza argue over things that
seem flat out ridiculous (which tapestry to sit by where they eat their lunch…really?)
and while it’s obvious that they’ve started having sex, the act is barely
mentioned in passing. Of course Annie On My Mind didn’t need sex scenes, but
while Liza does notice Annie’s physical attributes, we don’t really go into her
thought process with her sexual attraction to another girl, which could be
helpful to young adults who are struggling with their attraction and desire.

It may not feel
like it, but we’re starting to move in the right direction as far as LBGT
issues are concerned. Gay couples are depicted in popular TV shows and movies,
and coming out is no longer a death sentence to an entertainer’s career. In
real life, hate speech directed towards LBGT people isn’t as tolerated as it
once was, which isn’t to say it never happens, but people notice these things
now and speak up against it. It’s a slow process, but we’re getting there.
Keeping that in mind, it’s essential that books like these are read and
discussed, because while it certainly has its faults, it’s the love story that
prevails.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Summary (taken from Goodreads): To want what
you’re not supposed to have…

She is only nineteen.

She is his new stepfather’s daughter.

She is still naïve and innocent due to spending the last
three years taking care of her sick mother.

But for twenty-four year old Rush Finlay, she is the only
thing that has ever been off limits. His famous father’s guilt money, his
mother’s desperation to win his love, and his charm are the three reasons he
has never been told no.

Blaire Wynn left her small farmhouse in Alabama, after her
mother passed away, to move in with her father and his new wife in their
sprawling beach house along the Florida gulf coast. She isn’t prepared for the
lifestyle change and she knows she’ll never fit into this world. Then there is
her sexy stepbrother who her father leaves her with for the summer while he
runs off to Paris with his wife. Rush is as spoiled as he is gorgeous. He is
also getting under her skin. She knows he is anything but good for her and that
he’ll never be faithful to anyone. He is jaded and has secrets Blaire knows she
may never uncover but even knowing all of that…

Blaire just may have fallen too far.

I think I should just give up trying with New
Adult literature. So far, the genre has offered none of the maturity or
complexities of the liminal period between teen years and full-on adulthood,
instead preferring what merely amount to college age erotic romances with a
hefty side dish of misogyny. Indeed, the frequency with which sexist portrayals
of women and relationships appear throughout works labelled New Adult suggests
that the pair go hand in hand. While “Fallen Too Far” didn’t reach the
despicable lows of “Thoughtless”, it did come pretty close thanks to its
incredibly unsettling portrayals of women and relationships.

Let’s start with one issue this book presents
that I think represents a real disconnect from the contemporary world it claims
to depict. Blaire moves from Alabama to Florida to live with her father after
the death of her mother, with nothing but $20 in her pocket and a rusty old
vehicle. She needs a job to make enough money to get a place for herself. The book
is set in 2012 America. We currently live in a world of falling living
standards, rising unemployment and a widening gap between the working and
middle classes. This applies not only to USA but to most of what is known as
the developed world. Blaire is a 19 year old high school dropout with a GED and
some brief experience in a couple of after school jobs. Within one day of
moving to a completely strange place, she has a well-paying job at a country
club, where she is frequently given $50 and $100 tips. She literally walks into
this place, says she wants a job and is given one with barely any questions
asked. This bugged me for a number of reasons, the main one being that it was
insultingly unrealistic. The defenders of New Adult keep talking about how this
burgeoning genre has such amazing potential to depict real-life situations that
modern young people face every-day, from the personal to the political. Glines
took the cheapest route possible with what could have been an interesting twist
on the contemporary drama. Unemployment and money troubles are huge issues for
my generation, and those stories are dying to be told, so seeing the heroine
have it all handed to her so easily (and really? $100 tips?) felt like a real
slap in the face. I’ve talked before about how YA and romance tend to fetishise
wealth, and “Fallen Too Far” does this to some degree. While it’s made explicit
to us that the country club regulars are all lecherous old men or “jealous
sluts”, the designated love interest Rush is conveniently very wealthy and will
never have to worry about money.

Once again, we have another New Adult book
where Those Other Women fall into one camp of characterisation – bitches and sluts.
If they’re not unreasonably jealous of the beautiful and perfect gun toting
virgin Blaire, they’re throwing themselves over Rush or begging for sex
constantly. Even side characters, such as country club worker Darla, seem to have
nothing but sex on the brain, as she tells Blaire to essentially sex herself up
for tips. The virgin/whore complex is rampant throughout. Every single woman in
this book who isn’t the heroine is shamed in some manner, be it by the heroine herself
or the men around them. It’s the laziest characterisation imaginable and it’s
also horrifyingly sexist, particularly when coupled with the male characters of
the story, who seem to be nothing but walking erections. Every man in this book
except for Blaire’s father leers at her, openly proposition her and make it
very clear what they want to do to her. Not only are women seen as objects
throughout this novel, every woman aside from Blaire is portrayed as one.

Unfortunately, not even the sainted heroine
makes it out of this damaging double standard unscathed. Yet again, we have
another NA romance where the heroine is simultaneously infantilised and sexualised
by the designated love interest. Rush is very controlling (of course), getting
angry when Blaire turns down his offer of food (and of course we have another
romantic hero who is obsessed with getting the woman to eat, although shudder to
think any of these authors would ever portray the heroine as anything other
than the stereotypical skinny size), and talking about Blaire as if she’s an
object. He’s obsessed with other men touching her or wanting to touch her because
apparently they don’t deserve to touch her. The book also includes the
delightful line “Your pussy is mine” (to paraphrase it, I didn’t write it down
for obvious reasons). The sex scenes are as awful as you imagine them to be, chock
full of cringe-worthy dialogue about how hot, tight and deep the sexual
experience is. You’re not drilling for oil, Rush, you’re having sex, and being “so
in the moment” that you forgot to put a condom on makes you a fuckwit, not a
romantic. The “romance” is more lust-based than anything else (of course), with
no discernible reason given for why they’re so dramatically in love other than
they’re both gorgeous (of course). It seems to come from nowhere in the
beginning – Rush goes from being cold and showing absolutely no interest in his
step-sister to telling her to stay away to throwing her against a wall in lust
to getting angry when others flirt with her at her place of work. It was
exhausting, but not as exhausting as the pathetically weak attempts at plotting,
characterisation and grammar.

I don’t care if your book if self-published. If
you let it out into the real world and charge money for it, there is no excuse
for sloppy grammar and spelling. There weren’t just one or two slips. There were
countless examples of this sloppiness. I don’t know who is editing Glines’s
work, if anyone is, but it needs to be sorted out. If you want to call yourself
a professional author, you need to act professional.

The dialogue is sloppy and predictable, ticking
off all the expected boxes of New Adult angst and all-consuming lust (because I
refuse to call what these books portray love). The attempts at ambiguity and tension
fail miserably because everything is so obvious. There is absolutely no reason
for any of the supposed deep dark secrets of Rush and his “bitchy” “spoiled
brat” sister Nan to be kept secret. They’re kept secret solely to push forward
the bare threads of a plot. The deliberate withholding of information for no
reason other than it needs to be withheld for there to be a story is incredibly
sloppy writing. When the “cliff-hanger” ending is revealed, we’re left with
nothing but a weak excuse for a cash-in sequel.

It’s not just that this so-called contemporary
romance is unrealistic and chooses the easy way out over tackling the real
world issues of our generation. It’s not just that it’s badly written and
terribly edited. It’s not just that there are spelling errors and misplaced
punctuation and pacing issues. It’s not just that it’s incredibly sexist,
romanticised yet another controlling and unhealthy relationship, all the while
shaming women in a way that made my skin crawl. It’s not just that the sex
scenes were a mixture of laughable dialogue, irresponsibility and sheer
boredom. It’s not just all those things. It’s that “Fallen Too Far”, for all
its genre in its sexism, laziness, internalised misogyny and sloppiness, is
what we’ve now come to expect from New Adult literature. It exemplifies exactly
why this genre has failed to meet its most basic potential. All these books,
from “Fallen Too Far” to “Beautiful Disaster” to “Thoughtless”, make me feel a
little bit dirty. There is something seriously wrong with normalising stuff
like this as romantic and sexy. “Fallen Too Far” was detestable. Avoid.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Summary (taken from Goodreads):From the much-buzzed-about author of THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB
(already blurbed by Stephenie Meyer, Lauren Myracle, and Jen Calonita), a
prom-season delight of Jane Austen proportions.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single girl of
high standing at Longbourn Academy must be in want of a prom date.

After winter break, the girls at
the very prestigious Longbourn Academy become obsessed with the prom. Lizzie
Bennet, who attends Longbourn on a scholarship, isn't interested in designer
dresses and expensive shoes, but her best friend, Jane, might be - especially
now that Charles Bingley is back from a semester in London.

Lizzie is happy about her friend's
burgeoning romance but less than impressed by Charles's friend, Will Darcy,
who's snobby and pretentious. Darcy doesn't seem to like Lizzie either, but she
assumes it's because her family doesn't have money. Clearly, Will Darcy is a
pompous jerk - so why does Lizzie find herself drawn to him anyway?

Everyone knows something about “Pride
and Prejudice”, even if it’s only fragments of a plot or character they’ve
gleamed from a TV show or internet review or Googling pictures of a dripping
wet Colin Firth. The iconic story of social standings, misunderstandings and
the oft-imitated Lizzie and Mr Darcy has had an indelible impact on literature
at large, particularly YA and romance (two genres which are heavily entwined). The
chances are that you have seen or read at least one version of the story, be it
through the diary of Bridget Jones or the undead twists of Seth Graheme-Smith.
Elizabeth Eulberg, former publicist to one Stephenie Meyer, brings her own
twist to the table, through the scope of a privileged boarding school, where
connections are key and the end of year prom is the highlight of the social
calendar. So far, so typical for the tale. However, where Eulberg’s book fails
in the same way countless Austen re-imaginings before it have failed.

High schools, on the surface, seem
like an ideal setting for a modern day Austen re-telling. Many of the social
mores and expectations present in the original tale translate surprisingly well
to the heightened teenage stakes so commonly found in teen comedies and dramas.
“Clueless” stands as arguably the most effective adaptation of “Emma” because it understands
how to remain honest to the source material while still leaving enough wriggle
room to allow for necessary deviations. “Prom and Prejudice” does none of that.
It takes the shallowest reading of the source material imaginable and joins the
dots to form a coherent and recognisable adaptation of the story, but with none
of the wit, charm or social commentary of the original. Eulberg is so desperate
to be as honest to the plotting of the original work that she ends up
regurgitating each plot point and leaves behind something that’s not
particularly enjoyable (although it’s a very quick, mindless read) and
incredibly dull. While a re-telling of something as iconic as “Pride and
Prejudice” requires some faithfulness to the material, with a basic
understanding of what Austen was trying to discuss, simply recounting it with a
few minor contemporary changes is utterly pointless.

There’s no spark to this tale at
all. Lizzie is a scholarship student at a prestigious school, where she is
bullied mercilessly for not being as privileged as her classmates, while Darcy
is the wealthy boy from the nearby boys’ school who she takes an immediate
dislike to. The stakes just aren’t there for this story – prom invites aren’t
exactly marriage proposals, and the author totally failed to make me feel the
importance of the social workings of this world. Just being told that prom is
important is not enough. It didn’t help that all the snooty rich bullies Lizzie
went to school with were as fully developed as the villains from the Tintin
comics. None of the teenagers in this story talk like teenagers: They talk like
lazy Austen rip-offs read by twenty something adults. The dialogue feels so
completely at odds with how the rest of the book is written. The style jumps
from colloquial teenagers to 19th century formality as found in the
summaries of Spark Notes. Given that the novel is set in America, yet everyone
talks like Regency England, I can’t help but think Eulberg was forced to rush
this book out by an impatient editor.

Overall, “Prom and Prejudice” is a
fluffy and quick read that I finished in about 3 hours, including tea breaks,
but as an Austen adaptation, it is decidedly underwhelming, the shallowest take
on the source material imaginable. There are glimmers of potential within the
story – tackling the saturation of consumerism amongst the teenage generation,
the American class system – but they’re ignored in favour of showing how this
book is so totally like Austen but with a modern twist, and in the end it feels
patronising and irritating. If you want an Austen re-telling that actually
manages to balance fluff and satire in a modern setting, take “Clueless” every
single time.